


Forged With the Blood of Enemies

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: His Most Loyal Subject [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Sexual Submission, Self-Inflicted Burns, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but it's still literal torture so remember that, heads up this shouldn't be seen as healthy, i'm trying to keep them in character as villains without being unnecessarily /unhealthy/, murder in the second chapter, torture in the second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Ed goes to report a successful mission to his king and informs him that he captured one of Galavan's men. Oswald makes good on his promise to teach Ed the finer points of torture and killing.A sequel to '#3 - Grab the Moment'





	1. Report

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this first chapter is mostly just me getting the hang of the dynamic again. I know a lot of people asked for more and I really had fun with the last one, but I've written a lot of other Nygmobblepot between the last one and this, so it took me a bit to rediscover the style. Hopefully I've managed to do it properly. Chapter 2 involves the _actual_ violence, I promise.  
>  Enjoy!

"Mr. Penguin," Ed dropped down to genuflect, lowering his head so that his eyes were focused on the tips of Oswald's shoes. He still felt a trickle of fear each time he did this, an anxiety embedded deep within his soul that was convinced he would always be met with rejection. But as usual, Oswald managed to extract that fear from him like shrapnel from a wound, and all with merely a single finger placed under his chin, tilting his head up until he could meet his king's gaze.

Oswald increased the pressure under Ed's jaw ever so slightly, a gesture that Ed was permitted to rise. Getting to his feel in a motion that definitely felt more clumsy than graceful, Ed took the seat that Oswald indicated.

"Report?"

"Don't worry, sir. The evidence wasn't hard to clear. Dr. Thompkins ruled suicide," Ed replied.

"And the bullet can't be traced back? I thought you had technology for that sort of thing?"

"Of course we do! But we had the great fortune of an exit wound, meaning the bullet was already outside the body by the time I got to the scene."

Oswald frowned, "And that means..?"

"That means it was under my jurisdiction, not Dr. Thompkins'. In other words, the bullet in the lab is going to be traced straight back to his own gun. Suicide."

"Nobody double checks your work?"

"Oh they do," Ed nodded earnestly, "Sometimes. Which is why I always do my best. And it's also why I brought this."

He reached into his coat pocket, retrieving a small object that he dropped on the table.

The remains of the actual bullet.

Oswald felt a grin begin to stretch his face and he carefully reached out to cup Ed's face, ghosting a thumb over his cheekbone, "You never cease to amaze, my most loyal of subjects. Thank you so much for your work. You are irreplacably useful."

He marveled as Ed practically glowed under his praise, breathing in sharply and closing his shining eyes. He could almost feel Ed's body vibrating beneath his hand, tiny tremors that gave away how overwhelmed he was. Oswald was still awed by this effect - to think, the man before him would do so much for him and all to hear a few simple words of appreciation. It would have made him sad if not for the fact that he gained so much from it.

Besides, he couldn't deny how pure Ed's beauty was when he got like this. He looked fragile, like Oswald could crush him in an instant and Ed would break for him. It was a tantalizing idea, which made Oswald's gentleness all the more satisfying to the criminal. Ed would _let him_ break him, would offer himself up freely, and that was why Oswald had to preserve him at all costs. Protect him.

Including from the dark side that threatened to destroy this angelic creature. No, _Oswald_ was going to be Ed's dark side. No one else. Not even another Ed.

So he asked, "Tell me, how are you doing? Has everyone been treating you well?"

Ed bit his lip and that was all the answer Oswald needed. He felt a protective rage beginning to seep into his bloodstream and he forced his voice steady as he asked, "Who was it?"

Ed shrugged, "One of the officers. I don't know what his name was."

"What did he do?"

"Laughed, mostly. He overheard me give a riddle to Miss Kringle, you see. And he said that most people don't have time for my stupid children's games, and that I shouldn't be wasting a pretty woman's time when I - I was clearly unwanted. Even though Miss Kringle seemed more excited to talk to me today! But he said I was making a fool of myself and then when I tried to leave, he tripped me. I caught myself, but it was still embarrassing, and he was laughing, and so were all of his friends," Ed's downcast expression became laced with that fiery anger he'd had when he discussed killing Dougherty, nostrils flared and lips pursed as he added, "It was like middle school all over again."

Oswald instinctively rubbed his back, like his mother always did for him whenever he'd been bullied, "If I ever find out who he was, I'll kill him for you. I'll make it nice and slow, too. How does that sound?"

Ed nodded, leaning into his touch, shocked by his own willingness. Physical touches were rarely comforting in his experience, more often meant to cause pain than relieve it, and Oswald was notorious for violence. But this felt different, and he couldn't help but enjoy it.

"Thank you," he managed to say around the lump in his throat.

"You know, I wasn't always as feared and respected as I am now," Oswald said after a time, deciding in the moment to trust Ed with one of the intimate details of his past, "I'm sure you remember some of it, how I was treated. But it's always been like that. I was the runt, too small, too odd, the easiest target for every bully in school. I didn't just work for Fish Mooney for the money, you know. She came with protection, too. The other kids left me alone after that. But being the butt of every joke among gangsters was hardly better. Sure, they took pity on me sometimes and let me have chances to prove myself. But usually that only drove me to further isolation. I was too bloodthirsty," he gave a throaty laugh, "Too violent for the mob. What a way to be. But the truth was I _wasn't_ too violent. Rather, when I was violent, I was fanatical about it. Like a switch had gone off in my brain and I couldn't stop myself. And that scared them, because they knew if that was how I reacted to people I didn't have a grudge against, what would I do to them, given the chance?" he laughed again, "They were right to be afraid."

Ed was watching him, hanging on his every word with eyes wide and almost eerily innocent, considering the story he was hearing. Oswald recognized it for what it was: his own brand of crazy, the inability to see clear lines between right and wrong. It made the man all the more precious to him. He truly was the rarest of gems. What a stroke of luck to have gained his trust.

"I guess I'm telling you this because I want you to know that there is a better future. And now that you're with me, you are heading straight towards it. I was in your position once, but look at me now."

He made a sweeping gesture with his arms before bringing his hand back to Ed's shoulder, "See? With me, you shall flourish as I have."

Ed nodded, but he didn't meet Oswald's eyes. Taking that as a sign, Oswald took his hand from Ed's shoulder and moved it to his hand, covering it in an imploring way, "What else aren't you telling me? Is it _him_?"

"Yes," Ed nodded again, ducking his head with a blush, "He keeps showing up when I'm at work. Telling me that I'm going to get caught, that you're just using me, that... that I should use _you_... I don't want to betray you, Oswald!"

"Good," Oswald smiled at him, "I don't want you to betray me either."

"But would you - are you - " Ed swallowed hard, "If I got caught, what would you do?"

He looked up then, staring deep into Oswald's eyes and the mobster studied his expression, carefully selecting his words, "I would break you out, and then I would set you up in a safe house somewhere, preferably with a lab where you could work on developing new technology and methods for fooling the police. Ed, I _am_ using your talents and your position, but I also value you. Your loyalty alone places you above every other henchman I employ. I won't abandon you for anything short of betrayal, understood?"

"I... yes," Ed bowed his head, pulling up the hand Oswald had placed over his own and quickly kissing the back of it, "Thank you, my lord."

Oswald smiled at the term, "You are, as always, very welcome. And while tonight is not the night, I would like to delve a little further into this dark side of yours sometime. I have some theories that may free you of his influence, if you would be willing to try."

Ed glanced at him, "You, you think you can make him go away?"

"If you want him gone, yes. I'm the Penguin, Edward, the King of Gotham. I do not fear him."

"Oh. I mean, of course you don't," Ed corrected hastily. Oswald let the implication slide and moved down his mental checklist, "So how is your progress on our little... _project_?"

"Hmm?" Ed frowned momentarily before his eyes widened in recognition, "Oh yes, the lackey! I've got him."

He smiled expectantly and Oswald could not disappoint.

"You have? That's wonderful! Where is he?"

"I can hold things without hands. My purpose is determined by my owner. Take away my last letter and you get a verb that can be done to me. What am I?" Ed recited quickly, a tense anticipation behind his words.

Oswald sighed, "Ed? New rule: riddles are rewards. Don't give me one unless I ask for it, but in return I'll let you tell one every time you finish something for me, okay? You have a wonderful, complex brain and I'm sure it all makes sense up there, but I do not want you to relay important information that way. It's risky. The only time you can bend that rule is if you are in trouble and you're trying to encode your message, alright?"

He felt a pinprick of guilt as he watched Ed's frame droop, but it was for the best. Letting him be disappointed now was better than losing good men or good money over a puzzle that should have been urgent. To try and make up for it, he returned his hand to Ed's cheek, knowing the other man found reassurance in that when he feared the sort of dismissal he was used to from the GCPD.

"Ed, look at me," he said, waiting for Ed's soft brown eyes to meet his, lips twitching downward as he saw the excitement in them had been replaced with resigned dejection, "Ed, I know how important riddles are to you. I do not wish to deprive you of them. But think of it this way: if you tell me a riddle when I'm already on edge about something, there is a good chance I will brush you off. Neither of us want that. But if you wait until a prudent time, I promise to give you my best effort and fullest attention. Do you see?"

"You'll really try to solve them?" Ed sat up straighter.  


"As long as there's nothing urgent, I promise I will," Oswald insisted.

"Oh," Ed thought this over before nodding, "Okay. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For compromising. Everybody else always just told me to shut up," Ed mumbled. Oswald rolled his eyes, "I told you I would reward your loyalty. Most people seeking jobs from me want copious amounts of money or favors or even the opportunity to usurp my position. Paying someone in riddles and quality time is a dream come true. _You_ are a dream come true, and I feel incredibly lucky to be the mob boss that got to have you. Remember that next time _he_ \- or anyone else - tells you that you aren't worth anything. The Penguin himself considers you invaluable."

Ed covered his face with his hands and Oswald fought back a small smirk. If the redness at the tips of his ears was any indicator, he was trying to hide a blush.

"Now, about Galavan's lackey..."  



	2. Mr. Leonard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably up the rating to M for the violence. I tried not to hold back. You have been warned.

"You put him in a closet in your apartment?"

"Well," Ed scuffed his shoe against the lowest bar on the stool, "Yes."

Oswald let out what he was shocked to classify as a fond sigh, "Really, Ed? You at least made sure nobody saw you, right? I don't want to bring trouble to your door, from Galavan _or_ the cops. I'm short on manpower as it is right now, I can't spare someone to trail you at all times in case you get targeted, and I'd really rather not have to worry about it."

"You'd really worry?"

"Yes, Ed. I would."

"Oh. That's... nice," Ed bit both lips simultaneously, "But I swear I was careful."

"Good. One of the first things to learn is how to not draw attention to yourself until the opportune moment. The shadows are your friends."

Ed nodded, cataloguing the advice away in a special mental filing cabinet he'd made specifically for Oswald. He would never admit to it (unless Oswald asked him directly, of course; he would never lie to his king) but there was a sticker of a penguin in a scarf and hat on it, a little touch that he hadn't been able to resist.

"Lead the way," Oswald made a wide gesture towards the door. Ed moved forward and Oswald took the opportunity to grab a long coat with a hood and one of his weaponized canes. One could never be too careful.

Once outside, he pulled the hood low over his face and told Ed to take his arm.

"Why? Is your leg hurting you? Should we take a car?"

"No, no," Oswald shook his head, "This way we'll look perfectly harmless. No one would suspect a dashing young man and his crotchety grandmother of being a crime lord and his most trusted servant."

Ed stifled a giggle, laughing more fully when Oswald joined in.

The walk to Ed's apartment was slow-going, at least for Ed, who was not used to the pace Oswald's limp set for him. Yet he did not complain as the company was undeniably superb. Oswald even encouraged him to go on tangents about fun facts, and he chattered away, filling the night air with more knowledge than it knew what to do with.

When they finally arrived, Ed was confused to find a sadness welling up in him at the thought of letting go of Oswald. Well, he reasoned, he was perfectly aware of being touch-starved. That probably explained it. His disappointment was far overshadowed by the prospect of killing with the Penguin, anyway.

Oswald, similarly, let a wave of thrilled anticipation roll over him, nerves on fire and muscles tensing as he prepared to put on a show. This would be no perfunctory murder. No, he wanted to make this special for Ed. There would be other times for a more clinical lesson. This would be art.

Ed slid his door back, stepping aside to let Oswald enter first, waiting for his king to pass judgement. Said king looked around, taking in the unique style that screamed 'antique store' and nodded approvingly. Just standing in the room made him think of Ed. He appreciated that. His mother's apartment had always reminded him of her. Homes, he decided, should be personal that way.

"So where is our guest stashed?" he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed to rest his leg after such a long walk.

Ed shut the door behind him and crossed to the closet, "I put Mr. Leonard in here."

"Mr. Leonard?"

"I thought it might be a good idea to know his name. Knowledge proves to be useful in the most surprising of ways."

Oswald nodded. Sound logic. He would expect nothing less.

"Well, let's see him, then."

Ed opened the door and crouched down, using all of his strength to drag the occupied chair from the confines of the closet. Sure enough, a man was tied to it, zip-ties digging into his wrists and ankles with a more generic duct tape around his middle.

"And here I'd thought a GCPD employee like yourself would have a pair of handcuffs," Oswald couldn't resist teasing.

Instead of reacting as Oswald expected, Ed nodded, "Oh I do. This is just more effective. Zip-ties can be broken, and duct tape can be torn, but lock picking is the simpler skill. I've been able to do it since I was seven."

Oswald blinked. Huh. He hadn't thought about it like that.

This conversation had, of course, been made above the muffled shouts coming from beneath the burlap sack on Mr. Leonard's head. Curiosity satisfied, Oswald stood and drew nearer to inspect the man. His clothes were ragged, stained, and filthy. Oswald wrinkled his nose at them. The man's fingernails were chipped and one of the fingers had started to bleed, clearly the result of scratching at the chair in an ill thought out escape attempt. Pathetic.

"And what does this 'Leonard' do for Galavan, may I ask?"

"He's a gunman. Usually undercover," Ed explained, "Hence the suit and tie. _But_ while I'm sure he's a crack shot, he isn't what one would call 'hired muscle', meaning without his weapons he can't put up much of a fight. Not to mention he's a drunk. I guessed you might have particular fun with him, since he was one of the guards at your mother's cell."

Oswald felt the tension he had built up transforming into the cackling electricity of pure wrath and he let his lips curl up into a bloodthirsty grin, showing far too many teeth to be considered benign.

"You guessed correctly," he answered, not looking at Ed as he drew a knife from within his coat, "I'm going to start with the basics. Nothing truly beats a good, old-fashioned knife. But feel free to experiment. Everything is an instrument of torture to great creative minds like ours."

Ed licked his lower lip, face stuck in an almost comically wide grin as he watched Oswald step up in front of the man and tore the sack from his head. Terrified eyes stared back at him and the muffled screams grew even more frantic.

"Aw, I think he recognizes me," Oswald cooed before his face contorted into a snarl and he lunged forward with the knife, halting it a hairs breadth away from the man's eyeball, "That's right, _scream_. You threatened my mother, and for that, you must die. But not before I _ruin_ you for the devil. Hell will be a welcome relief after what I'm going to do to you."

He lowered the knife and turned to Ed, "Say, you are smart. What is _your_ favorite method of torture?"

Ed frowned in thought, "Rat torture. Even the toughest men will squirm at the thought of being eaten alive."

Oswald chuckled, "Right you are. I'm always a fan of breaking people before I kill them, although _some_ people deserve... individualized plans. Now, I promised the knife, but it occurred to me that sometimes knives speed things up too much. Unless, of course, we do something to slow it down."

"Like what?"

"Cauterization. Go light your stove."

Ed's manic grin returned and he hurried to obey. Oswald retrieved another, duller, knife from his coat and handed it over, "Set this in the flame."

Ed did so, and they positioned Leonard to have the best view of the metal as it slowly heated. Oswald traced his blade over the back of Leonard's neck, making sure to keep out of his line of sight to deprive him of the ability to _know_. By the time Oswald determined the metal to be ready, his screams had subsided to terrified whimpers.

Curious as to how far he could push him, Oswald glanced at Ed, "This is not a command, but if I asked, would you pick up the heated knife?"

Ed turned his wide doe eyes on Oswald before glancing back to the knife on his stove. He inclined his head once, "With pleasure. Do you want me to?"

A shiver ran down Oswald's spine. Ed would willingly brand himself for him. What a thought.

"You don't have to," was all Oswald could respond.

Ed turned back to him, more determined this time, "But do you want me to?"

"I want you to do what _you_ want to do."

Ed shook his head, "You promised me direction. If you make me choose, I'll always doubt my decision."

Oswald studied him carefully, "How would you feel about a permanent, visible marker of your subservience to me?"

With a deep breath, Ed answered, "Good. That way I would know it wasn't a hallucination, or a dream. And it would give me something to ground me when _he_ gets in my head."

"Then do it."

Oswald held his own breath, more shocked than Ed realized at this turn of events. Ed was too wrapped up in his own excitement to notice.

To have Oswald's knife imprinted permanently on his skin...

Ed had countless scars littering his body, but no burns. And each one of those was a mark of hatred, of loneliness, of rejection. This would be a sign of acceptance, instead. A mark of belonging.

He approached the stove, taking another steadying breath before he reached down and wrapped his fingers around the searing hot handle. He hissed at the pain, refusing to unclench his grasp and drop the knife. Involuntarily, his body lurched forward, and he braced his forearms against the counter top as he bent over in agony, numerous beseeching whimpers forcing their way out of his throat.

Oswald couldn't imagine a prettier sight.

When Ed finally pushed past the pain, he straightened his back and turned around.

"Please, Oswald, I want to watch you cut him open."

"Wonderful," Oswald breathed, referring both to Ed and his sentiment. Slicing down without further ado, he created a crimson gash across shirt sleeve and flesh on Leonard's upper right arm. The man screamed again.

"Now it's your turn," he stepped aside to make room for Ed, "Don't worry about the shirt if it catches. He won't need it."

Ed approached and leaned in, eyes dangerously close to better observe his work as he set about burning the wound shut. He ignored Leonard's pitiful efforts at squirming away, pressing the red-hot blade flat against the wound. In an actual cauterization, the metal ought to have been removed swiftly, to avoid tissue damage. Neither Ed nor Oswald cared about Leonard's tissue.

"Beautiful work, Edward," Oswald complimented, stepping forward again, "What next?"

"Are you familiar with Tycho Brahe?"

"No," Oswald blinked. Weren't they in the middle of a torture session?

"He's most famous for creating copious amounts of data on the movements of the sun and stars. He was, unfortunately, a passionate believer in geocentrism, which meant most of his _conclusions_ were utterly pointless. How _ever_ ," Ed's voice shot higher in pitch with his increased enthusiasm, "Another interesting fact about Mr. Brahe is that his nose was cut off in a sword-fight."

"You want me to cut off his nose?"

"Mhmm," Ed nodded happily.

Oswald shrugged, "I can do that."

Mr. Leonard shook his head vehemently, and Oswald frowned, "Edward? Be a dear and hold him still for me."

Ed stepped hastily around the back of the chair, gripping Leonard's face with both hands. Of course, since he hadn't bothered to set the knife down, that meant that one side of it ended up getting rather toasty.

"Thank you," Oswald replied graciously, lining up the blade with great precision. He sank it in slowly this time, savoring each pained cry and spatter of blood. It was a good thirty seconds before his knife emerged on the other side, the detached flesh falling uselessly into the man's lap.

"Quickly now, Ed," Oswald instructed, and Ed shifted the blade from the man's cheek to his bloodied stump of a nose, searing the gaping injury shut and keeping Leonard alive that much longer.

"I think it's cooling down," Ed frowned, gesturing to the knife, "Should I put it back in the fire, or are we doing something else?"

"Why don't we try something else," Oswald suggested, "Say, don't some people shave their body hair by lighting it on fire?"

"I believe I'm familiar with the concept. Shall I fetch some matches?"

Oswald nodded, "Yes, do."

Two hours passed without notice, two of the men in the apartment wrapped up in their game, one wrapped up in pain. By this time, Leonard was hairless, nail-less, castrated, and carved up. Oswald had taken great pleasure in showing Ed the exact force necessary to cleanly tear off a fingernail and Ed had been enthralled by the efficient method Oswald had used to separate man from manhood.

"If I had my forensics tools, we could try carving out his tear ducts. Wouldn't that be fascinating?" Ed mentioned. Oswald smiled at him, "Maybe next time."

Tear ducts still in place, Mr. Leonard wept openly, no longer strong enough to scream or struggle.

"We could still do his eyelids, I suppose..."

"Go for it," Oswald shrugged, "I'm afraid my leg is getting tired. Why don't you finish up however you like and I'll give you some feedback."

Ed hesitated but nodded, "Okay. If you're sure."

"I believe in you, Ed," Oswald's gentle voice soothed away his anxiety, "You can do this."

The forensic scientist took Oswald's sharper knife as the Penguin sank back onto his bed. Peering at Leonard, he nodded, "Eyelids, I think."

Widening his stance and pushing Leonard's head back against the chair with the base of his palm, Ed pulled one eyelid forward. He slipped the blade into the gap created, not caring if he scratched the eye as Leonard thrashed beneath him on adrenaline and reflexes. Pressing a knee into his body to keep him still, he slashed upward with the knife, severing the eyelid.

Unfortunately, he misjudged his force and missed a couple of millimeters of skin. With a shrug, he tore it the rest of the way off.

"Better luck next time, I guess," he muttered, bending forward to do the same to the other one.

Oswald lounged back on Ed's bed, rubbing at his knee as he watched his - what? servant? protege? - work. It was a truly stunning sight to behold. The man had a gift.

"I wish I had thumbscrews... " he sighed, glancing around, "That would have been fun, too."

"Don't worry," Oswald called to him, "There will always be more lowlifes to torture."

Ed nodded, "You're right, as always. Should I kill him now?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Ed looked down at the knife, "Would you like me to do it in a particular way?"

Oswald considered this, "I want you to pour yourself into it. I want you to drown everything else out. Let your world become the murder. _Become Death."_

Ed nodded again, unsure of how to acquiesce, but determined to do so nonetheless. He raised the blade above his head, trying to remember how he felt when he killed Dougherty.

_Right. You felt right._

His other self materialized beside him, whispering in his ear.

_You see this man beneath you? Show him he is beneath you. Feel the rush. Get high on his blood. DO IT NOW!_

The knife came down, over and over, slashing and stabbing across the man's chest and stomach, blood spurting out randomly as he hit veins and arteries.

Behind him, not that he could hear in the haze, Oswald gasped. This ferocity, this rage, _this_ was the steel he had heard in Edward Nygma's voice. This was the cold blooded killer within. And he was so flawless, so elegant, so magnificent, that Oswald's thoughts clicked into place.

He had already known he found Ed attractive, but this, this was something else.

Oswald Cobblepot had a _crush_.

Then again, how could he not, when faced with the perfect man. Ed was everything he'd wished Jim Gordon to be: loyal, friendly, _ruthless_. He had called Ed a dream come true, and he had been right. Ed wasn't just a dream, he was a fantasy. Fragile and enthusiastic, desperate and docile, submissive and bloodthirsty, and so, _so_ brilliant.

_Perfect._

Leonard had finally been granted escape, slipping away from his tortured body into the sleep of eternity, and Ed's high was beginning to ebb. He recalled the room around him, his mentor, his king, and turned to face him. Oswald committed his wild eyes and gaping, skeletal grin to memory, wishing he had the means to capture the moment on film. Ed would have made such a gorgeous picture.

"How did I do?" Ed's voice had more confidence than Oswald had ever heard in it before, but a sliver of worry still shone through.

"Spectacular. I cannot recall the last time I was so entertained. You put on a quite the show, my friend."

Ed sank to his knees by the side of the bed, "Then I've pleased you?"

"More than you can possibly imagine," Oswald paused as he was struck by a thought as to how he might show Ed his appreciation, "Would you like to ask me a riddle?"

Ed's eyes widened as he gave a small gasp, "You mean it?"

"I do not make a habit of saying things I don't mean, Ed," Oswald snapped, hoping Ed would respond better without the question.

"The less you fear, the more of me you have. I am a right, I am a dream. Men have killed for me. Men have died for me. Yet many can find me without lifting a finger. What am I?"

Oswald mulled over the words, knowing he had promised Ed to try his best.

"Courage?"

Ed shook his head, smile reaching his eyes, "Do you give up?"

"Give me a moment," Oswald held up a finger, "Power?"

"Nope!" Ed popped the 'p' and bit his lip to keep the answer from escaping.

"Alright, alright. I give up. What are you?"

"Freedom," Ed replied, eyes shining with both excitement and adoration, "You've set me free, Mr. Penguin. I don't fear the monster I know is in me when I'm with you, and when I watched the light fading out of his eyes just now, I felt like I was flying. In fact, I don't fear _anything_ with you. Not myself, or other people, or even loneliness. And now I have a reminder of you to carry with me forever," he uncurled his palm to show the burned tissue of his hand to Oswald. For the most part, it was nothing more than a large burn, but near the crease on the outside of his hand, where the knife hadn't been pressed so hard, a swirled pattern appeared that was unmistakably from the hilt of his weapon.

"I am eternally grateful to you, my king," he bowed his head, "I owe you everything."

Oswald chuckled at that, "Brands are usually a sign of ownership and possession, not freedom."

Ed shook his head, breathing heavily with the need for Oswald to _understand_ , "Being yours is what frees me. On my own I was too weak to be safe, too desperate for acceptance to be discerning, too nervous to make decisions. But you've saved me from that. Because you'll take care of me... right?"

Oswald cupped Ed's cheek in what was fast becoming his favorite gesture. For the first time, he wondered what would happen if he just leaned forward and kissed him. But now was not the time for that.

"Of course I will. I told you I care for what is mine."

Ed nodded, inadvertently causing Oswald to caress his face, "Exactly. So as long as I'm yours, I don't have to be scared or lonely or anything. I can be free to finally find out who I am. You did that for me. And in return I will gladly do anything you ask of me. Forever."

Oswald stared into those warm, brown eyes and moved his hand upward to brush Ed's hair, curling with sweat, away from his eyes.

He felt the roots of his crush growing steadily deeper, morphing into something new and utterly unfamiliar.

If Oswald had felt it before, romantically that is, he might have recognized it for what it was.

_Love_.


End file.
